


Compensation

by Reformed (GarGoyl)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Mob, Crossdressing, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Robbery, Underage - Freeform, Underage Drinking, Very high heels, irresponsible behaviour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-10-27 18:17:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20764808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GarGoyl/pseuds/Reformed
Summary: Eighteen-year-old Tooru Oikawa - the youngest son of Seijoh syndicate’s leading family -  decides to have a little fun together with his friend Iwaizumi on the turf of their long-time rival, the boss of Shiratorizawa.  Unfortunately for them, things go downhill and for that Wakatoshi Ushijima will ask for compensation.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I've been wanting to write this pairing for so long... Finally happening and it's gonna be ugly too. You're been warned.

As he walks out of the bathroom, forgetting to switch off the lights, Tooru’s shaky fingers fist helplessly into the tightly fastened sash of the thin black yukata he’s been required to wear. The silky material feels cold against the heated skin underneath and the boy shudders, barely resisting the urge to hug himself. He doesn’t think he can do this. No, there’s no uncertainty there, there’s no way in _fucking hell_ he can…

Too bad he doesn’t have a choice though.

* * *

** _Three weeks before_ **

A soft, quiet whistle leaves Tooru’s lips as he examines himself in the full-size mirror, smoothing a hand over the skin-tight, black sequin dress. It has cute, short sleeves and not too much of a cleavage, but it fits his slender body like a glove and the skirt is _very_ short, barely covering the top of his thighs. It’s just right, because his legs and backside, shaped by years of volleyball, are his strong points. He takes a deep, long breath, a surge of excitement coursing through his whole body.

“Iwa-chan, check it out!” He walks out of the fitting room, surprisingly confident on the pair of matching stiletto shoes and spins around, for his best friend and schoolmate to see. “What’cha think?”

“I think this is a fucking stupid idea,” Iwaizumi grumbles, tugging at his own girdle.

“Hmmm... then maybe not yellow, Iwa-chan. Why don’t you try a darker color? Like dark green or something.”

“No, I mean hitting Shiratorizawa’s casino, of all places,” the other clarifies, fidgeting. “Their syndicate is basically at war with ours and we have enough problems as it is! I heard my dad saying there’s a cash shortage and about not being able to meet some payments… The last thing Seijoh needs is us starting trouble right on Ushijima’s turf. We could just go to any other club!”

The Washijou club belonging to the Ushijima family has the largest casino area in the city, aside from its restaurant and dance club, and it’s also the last place a Seijoh member would ever walk into, unless in search for serious trouble. But Tooru doesn’t really think he and Iwaizumi would take too many risks in venturing into enemy territory, first because it’s unlikely they’ll be recognized – dressed as _girls_ that is – and second because the two of them are hardly known in the first place, being too young to be actively involved in Seijoh’s business just yet. 

This does not mean that the youngest Oikawa doesn’t want to be seen, generally speaking.

“Ushijima’s _turf_,” Oikawa mimics him with an eye roll. “Come on, Iwa-chan, I want to have some real fun, now that the exams are over. Nothing’s gonna happen, we’re not gonna get caught, not like _this_ anyway.” He winks, sticking his tongue out. “Maybe we can make some money at blackjack, seeing how my dad needs it so badly, yeah? And besides, it’s a challenge!”

Iwaizumi Hajime is always up for a challenge.

* * *

“Don’t stay up too late, boys. Just get a good look around and make a gracious exit, yeah?” Issei Matsukawa advises them. “I’ll be waiting with the car right here, just in case.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure thing, Mattsun. We’ll behave!” Tooru assures him light-heartedly, gripping Iwaizumi’s arm to help him out of the car. Even though his friend has shown somewhat more temperance in his choice of outfit and wears some low-heeled pumps, he’s still about ready to fall flat on his face.

“See, Iwa-chan? There’s nothing to worry about. It’s gonna be fine and Mattsun has our back if things go downhill, but I don’t see why they would,” he whispers as they flash their fake IDs at the door with as casual an air as they can muster. They’ve used fake IDs a couple of times before to go to places they weren’t supposed to, so the two boys aren’t particularly nervous about it. 

Tooru is wearing a blonde wig with a long, artistic braid on one side and his face only required a drop of dark eye-shadow and some mascara to appear feminine enough, but the disguise still makes him look older than eighteen. Iwaizumi needed a bit more work, looking even older and less recognizable as a result and once they’re inside it’s easy to lose themselves in the fancy but colorful crowd huddled around tables and slot machines.

“Iwa-chan, let’s check out the blackjack table!”

As they advance into the large, luxurious hall, the two of them take notice of the discreetly armed bodyguards hovering around corners, their standard black suits and tell-tale earpieces a dead giveaway. Of course, it’s nothing unusual about a casino having a certain level of security, but the word goes that Ushijima’s protection is over the top. In fact, that he has a small army securing all of his assets and properties. 

Still, as keenly as the numerous men in black scan the crowd for any sign of trouble or anything suspicious, Oikawa is confident that there’s no chance in hell any of the bodyguards can possibly figure out who they are. He almost feels giddy at the thought.

Their gambling endeavor however turns out to be quite uninspired for a change - long story short, both Oikawa and Iwaizumi’s two months worth of allowance goes down the drain faster than they’d thought possible.

“That went well,” Iwaizumi concludes drily in the aftermath of it. “Now we’re broke.”

“Ah, fuck, I am disappointed, Iwa-chan…” Tooru pouts for about two seconds. After all, they’re both quite spoiled and money is not an issue – and his mother at least never says no when he asks for more. “Whatever, let’s go to the club!”

They leave the casino hall, Oikawa mostly unaware of the stares he’s been getting for a while now, especially from a certain person lounging upstairs against a gilded railing and observing the crowd below. Sharp olive eyes follow the ‘blonde’’s shape as she struts fearlessly on five inch heels like she owns the place, small hips swaying lusciously at every step (walking on heels took some serious hours of secret practice, but Tooru approached it as he would any sport, with its requirements and sacrifices, refusing to give up until he mastered it).

Oikawa is used to stealing the spotlight in clubs whenever he and his friends manage to sneak in, but this is a whole new level. It’s the first time he and Iwa-chan went as far as to actually cross-dress and doing it on enemy territory too (thus doing something so utterly _forbidden_) feels oddly exhilarating. If his father ever finds out about this little outrageous endeavor, even if there’s nothing going amiss tonight, there will be some serious hell waiting for him and he knows it. Still, he’s drawn to the thrill, to the danger like a moth to the flame. 

They hit the dance floor - despite Iwaizumi wanting nothing else than to throw his pumps away rather than take another painful step in them - and his friend decides to go absolutely wild during a dirty song. Shamelessly mouthing the words, Oikawa sways in perfect sync with the music, even getting down low every now and then, again unaware of the man who has followed the two of them into the club and whose gaze is now secretly trailing over the curves of his body with more than a little interest.

“Fuck, I could use a drink,” Iwaizumi shouts over the blaring bass after a while, dancing close to his schoolmate. “Too bad we have no money left…”

“Maybe someone will buy us a drink?” Tooru suggests.

“What?! No! Trashykawa, just don’t-”

But his friend has already wandered off to the bar, perching on one of the high stools. The shorter boy follows, taking a seat next to him with a relieved huff as his sore feet finally leave the ground.

Truth be told, Oikawa doesn’t really think this will work, it _does_ mean pushing things a little too far after all, but when he finally decides they’re better off calling it a night it’s already too late. A shadow looms over him and the boy turns around instinctively, only to be faced with his worst fear. Actually no, it’s not his worst fear, because he hasn’t even imagined _this_.

_Wakatoshi Ushijima_ is sitting on the stool next to him, looking at him with intent, however unreadable.

Tooru stares back, his blood running cold, nearly forgetting how to breathe. His instincts scream at him to run, get out of there as fast as he can, but he’s pinned by that intense gaze like a butterfly in an insect display case.

“Hello,” Ushijima says, his tone even and polite but with no smile. Tooru has never seen the man before except for online photos, which makes his sudden proximity all the more striking. There’s an intimidating air about his tall, broad-shouldered frame, not quite like a bad vibe but close and the odd gleam in his olive eyes contrasts with his otherwise blank expression. Ushijima is only thirty-four, but his stern composure makes him seem much older. Seijoh members usually refer to him as ‘Ushiwaka’ in mockery, but the nickname doesn’t really suit him, not this up close.

The boy manages a small nod and a mostly inaudible greeting, dread stiffening his limbs. For fuck’s sake, he should really utter an excuse and make himself scarce while he still can, but his mouth hardly works now and his body even less, so he’s stuck in place under the other’s scrutinizing gaze. He can tell he’s being checked out openly, in an almost rude fashion, and wonders if he should act offended.

“May I buy you a drink?” the Shiratorizawa boss inquires neutrally, no doubt having noticed the absence of a glass in front of Oikawa.

_Fuck._ He doesn’t want a drink. Not from Wakatoshi Ushijima anyway.

“Ah, thank you but…uh… maybe some other time?” He’s surprised how natural the words flow, almost with no stuttering. “I’m afraid that now I have to-”

“You know who I am,” the man says, and it’s not a question. Still, he doesn’t seem bothered by the thought, although Tooru doesn’t know if that’s a good thing or not. “There’s no need to be so nervous. We can go talk in a quieter place if it’d make you more comfortable.”

Oikawa blinks, uncomprehending. Ushijima didn’t ask his name or what he’s doing here, whether he has company or not, he just-… Does he _know_?! But he can’t know, right? It’s impossible!

“You’re new, aren’t you?” the Shiratorizawa boss inquires next. _New to what?_

“I-…”

“It’s alright, I don’t mind working girls.”

_WHAT?! _

“N-No, I’m not-”

“Listen, if you don’t want to tell me I won’t pry. I won’t ask your name either, okay?”

What the _actual fuck_?! His skirt is not _that _short, is it?! Before he gets the chance to reply, Tooru finds himself being led away from his seat, only managing a glance over his shoulder, enough to meet Iwaizumi’s dumbstruck stare. Maybe he should yank his hand from Ushijima’s grip and just run away! But that would look suspicious and suspicion is the last thing he wants to arouse, on top of Shiratorizawa’s boss’s unwanted interest.

Ushijima opens a side door next to the bar and leads him down a narrow, carpeted passage, with more numbered doors on each side. He picks the third to the left and pulls out a set of keys, momentarily letting go of the ‘blonde’’s hand. Cold fear washes over the teen next to him, soaking into his very bones. If he’s to run now, he won’t get far – Ushijima looks quite athletic and he’s not wearing heels either.

“Here, make yourself comfortable,” the older man motions towards the room, ushering him inside. It’s small and cozy, with a large, black leather couch and a gold-rimmed glass coffee table and Oikawa can’t help noticing a few stacks of casino chips, neatly arranged near a half-empty whiskey glass.

“Um, I really don’t think-”

The boy doesn’t get to finish his phrase before he finds himself pinned against the wall near the couch, gently but firmly, glittery clutch dropping from his hand. Then Ushijima’s lips are against his ear, the man’s breath already a little labored feeling warm on his flushed cheeks.

“Don’t worry, I will pay you well.”

Oikawa’s hands rest on the other’s shoulders, intent on pushing him away, but he doesn’t really dare to. Then Ushijima’s mouth moves to his neck and he flinches at the unfamiliar sensation. It’s not good but not that bad either, he’s very sure he doesn’t _want_ Ushijima to touch him but he’s simply… overwhelmed.

Large hands trail over his shoulders and sides, feeling and kneading the flesh a little forcefully before coming back up to paw at the non-existent chest and Tooru sobers brusquely, reminded that this can’t possibly end well, for a very simple reason. Panic takes over as Ushijima’s hands descend to his hips, smoothing over the barely-there curve of them, reaching for the hem of his skirt.

“No-” the boy tries, not quite pushing but putting some pressure on the other’s shoulders, attempting to slip to the side, out of his grasp.

However Ushijima will have none of it. A grunt escapes his lips against Tooru’s neck and he shoves a knee between the teen’s legs to pry them open, before gripping both his thighs and lifting him up against the wall. He probably expected his prey to give in and wrap their legs around his waist, but instead, to his own surprise even, Oikawa musters the strength to shove his own knee as forcefully as he can into the man’s groin.

He’s instantly dropped as Ushijima doubles over in pain, stumbling backwards, and Tooru kicks him in the stomach next, making him topple over the coffee table, his skull colliding with its edge. The boy watches in horror as the Shiratorizawa boss slips limply onto the floor and lies there motionless, eyes closed.

* * *

Clutch pressed to his panting chest, Tooru steps over Ushijima’s fallen form and lets himself out of the private room as quickly as he can. Outside, the dimly lit passage is empty, so he nearly breaks into a run back towards the club area, heart pounding like mad in his chest.

Luckily, Iwaizumi is on the same spot where he’s left him, looking stiff and out of place. And mildly terrified.

“IWA-CHAN, QUICKLY!” his schoolmate shouts over the loud music. “WE NEED TO GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!” He grabs him by the arm abruptly and tears him off the high stool and it’s only by dumb luck that Iwaizumi’s face doesn’t make a painful contact with the confetti-littered floor.

“WHA- WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?!”

Oikawa knows they should just _fucking leave_ while they can, but he’s still one with the adrenaline surge. _Fuck, why not go all the fucking way now?_ he thinks, relentlessly dragging his friend back into the casino area and straight to the cashier’s cage.

“_Where the fuck did you get those?! Shittykawa!_” Iwaizumi hisses, eyes widening in absolute horror as the taller boy empties his glittery clutch onto the counter and pushes a pile of chips forward under the grate. The man behind it grins and makes a comment along the lines of ‘you lucky babes’, but fortunately doesn’t waste time and stuffs several wads of cash into a branded envelope. 

“I’ll tell you outside,” Tooru whispers, snatching the envelope a little too eagerly and hurrying towards the exit. “Now let’s get the fuck out of here! I really hope Mattsun isn’t-”

The words die in his throat when he notices one of the bodyguards – a lanky redhead with a sinister grin – treading through the crowd, clearly headed in their direction, one hand to his earpiece. His focused gaze leaves no doubt, the man is coming after them and he’s probably not the only one.

_“FOR FUCK’S SAKE HURRY UP HAJIME, THEY’RE AFTER US!”_

“But why, what the fuck did you do?!” the shorter boy pants, nearly out of breath as they hasten towards the exit.

“I-I knocked out Ushiwaka. A-And then I robbed him. I’m so scared, Iwa-chan!”

“YOU DID _WHAT_?!”

“HEY! YOU TWO, HOLD IT RIGHT THERE! ”

Tooru watches in horror-struck awe as Iwaizumi halts and turns, plucks his heeled shoes off and throws them at their pursuers with deadly precision. One of them hits the redhead square in the face with a sickening thud, making him stumble backwards and the rest turns into a blur as they manage to dash out through one of the revolving doors. He’s not quite aware of how they finally make it out in the street and in the backseat of Matsukawa’s car, tires screeching as the vehicle shoots forward.

Iwaizumi is yelling something but he can’t focus, something like a suffocating sob rising from the depths of his chest as his body shakes uncontrollably. For a moment there he nearly imagined himself and Iwaizumi being dragged down into the casino’s basement – he’s sure they have a basement for that, just like in the movies – and beaten bloody by Ushijima’s security staff, if not worse. 

“Oikawa-kun… you robbed Ushijima?” Matsukawa asks cautiously, looking at the teen in the rearview mirror.

“He says he knocked him out and grabbed some chips lying around,” his schoolmate answers for him, tone laced with worry. “We cashed them and it fucking looks like a lot of money, Mattsun!”

“How much?”

“Didn’t get to count them,” Oikawa replies absently, reaching down at his feet to grab at the mouth of a bottle he’s just noticed being tucked under the driver’s seat (Justerini & Brooks, who knew Matsukawa has such fine tastes?). “It’s a lot, but I didn’t ruin him. He’ll live…” the boy adds, struggling with the sealed lid.

“But how the hell did you knock him out?!” Iwaizumi presses this time, snatching the whiskey before he can take it to his lips.

“Pfft…I just kicked him, he fell and hit his head on the edge of the table. I guess...?”

“_YOU GUESS?! What if he’s fucking dead?!_”

“Yeah, Iwa-chan. That’s why he called security so quickly…” Tooru lets out a deep sigh, head dropping forward against the driver’s headrest. “Hey, give me that! _I_ found it!”

* * *

_  
_“Fuck this, I’m so hot!” Iwaizumi grumbles, peeling off the red curly wig and tossing it out the open window.

His schoolmate giggles into the mouth of the half-empty bottle as the shorter boy struggles out of his dress, pulling it over his head with a relieved grunt. “You wish, Iwa-chan…”

“Fuck you, Trashykawa! You know, you could have gotten us into some really deep shit there! What if they had gotten their hands on us, huh?! For _fuck’s sake_!”

Iwaizumi proceeds to toss the dress out the window as well, then pull on a wrinkled t-shirt and shorts.

Next to him, Tooru winces inwardly, reminded of the ice-cold look in Ushijima’s eyes - there was no friendliness in it but a predatory, aggressive sharpness. He takes a large gulp of whiskey, wondering how he actually had the guts to kick the man in the spur of the moment, considering he was half-dead of fear! And his skin still pricks at the memory of Ushijima’s strong, determined hands travelling down his body and up his bare thighs, leaving goose bumps in their wake, of Ushijima’s lips nipping, almost biting into the side of his neck.

Oikawa doesn’t want to think what would have happened if the Shiratorizawa boss had discovered that he was a boy. Things could have gotten really ugly, or maybe he wouldn’t have minded at all. Maybe he would have just shoved him face-down onto that expensive leather couch of his and fucked him senseless like he would a slut.

_Maybe worse. _

A chill runs through his body, followed by nausea rising in his throat, mixed with a horrible dizziness.

“M-Mattsun… I think I’m gonna be sick.”

Matsukawa stops the car into an empty parking lot and Tooru stumbles out, bottle still in hand. His cheeks burn, but the chill, fresh night air chases away the wave of nausea. The boy takes another swig, bursting into laughter as he walks away, now wobbly on the high heeled shoes.

“I did it to Ushiwaka! I bet he’s really pissed right now!” he laughs hysterically, throwing his head back. At the end of the day, this was _so fucking good_! He’s just a kid and yet he brought the biggest mob boss of the moment to his knees.

_Literally._

“Get back here, you drunkard!” Iwaizumi stomps after him with a scowl.

Giggling like mad, Oikawa attempts to run away, only to trip and fall on all fours on the concrete, scraping his knees. By some absolute miracle the bottle of JB survives and his schoolmate plucks it from his hand before all the contents spill out.

“Seriously, Shittykawa…” the shorter boy growls, taking a long, final swig before throwing away the empty recipient with enough force to get it to smash to pieces. “Come here.” He grips the other’s arm, hauling him up to his feet and pushing him towards a backless, dirty bench, onto which Oikawa drops gracelessly, with a groan.

“Iwa-chan…” he mumbles sleepily, but his mouth is still stretched into an impossibly wide grin.

Still scowling, Iwaizumi pushes his way between his friend’s knees and pulls off the blonde wig, throwing it away, and then grabs a handful of Tooru’s real hair, forcing his head back. He leans in, uncertain, breath heavy and free hand finding support on Tooru’s bare thigh, and brushes his bottom lip tentatively against the corner of Oikawa’s mouth.

Tooru freezes, suddenly hyper-aware of being touched, of his friend’s warmth, of _this_ finally happening. In slow motion, he eventually gets his hand to move, to reach up and cup Iwaizumi’s face, tilting it so that their lips meet. It’s very soft and slow and he barely sucks on Iwaizumi’s bottom lip, enough to taste the fragrant whiskey aroma. It’s sweet and affectionate, even when Hajime pushes into him and grips his hair harder, it has nothing of Ushijima’s self-gratifying possessiveness which only made him feel dirty, cheap.

He’s being cleaned by Iwa-chan’s touch.

Oikawa lets out a soft moan when the shorter boy’s lips trail from his mouth to his chin, then down to his neck and Hajime’s hand leaves his hair to reach down for his other thigh, the tips of his fingers slipping shamelessly just under the hem of his skirt, teasing the soft skin there.

“Sexy _bitch_…” Iwaizumi murmurs against the side of his schoolmate’s neck, before pulling away brusquely. “Take this fucking shit off, it doesn’t suit you,” he points to the dress, scowl returning.

Tooru flinches a little at the words, still he keeps a cheeky smile on his face, shaking his head. “I can’t… You rip it off me, Iwa-chan.”

With a suddenly blunt expression, Iwaizumi brusquely fists his hands into the cleavage and tears the fabric apart, all the way down to the other boy’s navel, sequins raining on the concrete at their feet.

“Come on Shittykawa, there’s some _normal_ clothes in the car for you to put on. And loose those shoes before you fall on your face and ruin it, you know it’s your only asset.”

“_WHA-?! _Iwa-chan, you’re so mean!”

** _To be continued_ **


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second and final chap is finally here y'all ;)

A short rapping against his office door makes Wakatoshi Ushijima lift his gaze from the laptop and utter an even ‘come in’. His face remains perfectly neutral at the sight of his top intelligence officer, even if he’s waited for the man’s report for three weeks now. Semi Eita walks into the room, a thick folder under his arm and the vaguest shadow of a smile playing on thin lips and the Shiratorizawa boss knows he’s got his prey.

His back straightens and his hands rest on the desk in front of him, fingers intertwined as he studies the newcomer for a moment. “Well?”

“We found them, sir. It took so long because we needed to hack into some police and other private records as well as street surveillance cameras from several areas,” Semi explains. “The car they used to escape had been reported stolen a week before the incident and found abandoned near some old warehouse later on. The man driving it was positively identified as Matsukawa Issei, a ‘reputed’ member of the Seijoh syndicate.” 

Ushijima’s face remains unchanged at the mention of his enemies.

“And the two prostitutes? Are they on Seijoh’s payroll?”

His man allows himself a small smirk this time. “Actually, Ushijima-san, the two girls are not girls at all.” He pauses suggestively, to let the information sink in. “After driving for a while, the car stopped into an empty parking lot and they dropped their clever disguise. Look.”

The Shiratorizawa boss glances briefly at the blurred, dark photo he can’t make too much out of. “Who are they?”

“Well, the ‘redhead’ is Hajime Iwaizumi, his father is one of Taguchi Oikawa’s top lieutenants, and the ‘blonde’ is Taguchi Oikawa’s youngest son, Tooru. None of them has a criminal record, but-”

Ushijima blinks, a vague scowl insinuating itself on his face. “How old are they?”

“Eighteen.”

“Are you sure they’re not delinquents?”

Semi shifts, pulling out some more photos from his folder. “Quite sure, Ushijima-san. They both attend a prestigious school and have spotless records. The Oikawa boy even has top grades and he’s captain of the volleyball team.”

Ushijima’s gaze is drawn to a picture of Oikawa Tooru taken during a volleyball match, in which he’s jumping to serve, his lean, pale body enticingly glistening with sweat under the bright lights of the court. He bites his lip, fingertips pensively tracing the outline of the printout.

“You little shit,” he mutters.

Oikawa Tooru is beautiful.

And he will pay.

* * *

“I may have forgotten to tell you, but the cash flow problem has been resolved,” Oikawa says with a small, satisfied sigh. “I heard Mom and Dad talking two nights ago…” He turns slightly, with a cheeky smile, meeting his schoolmate’s skeptical gaze. “We did good, Iwa-chan. _Very_ good.”

There are no seats for the two of them in the large conference room Seijoh has rented for their usual monthly meeting – since they’re not active syndicate members yet and probably won’t be until they graduate from college – but as _future members_ they’re required to attend regardless. Tooru for one didn’t think skipping school for the occasion was too much of a sacrifice anyway and the sharp, black suit gives him _one hell_ of a good vibe.

He can’t help a smirk from lingering on his lips as his father drones about the budget and Seijoh’s ongoing business plans – Taguchi Oikawa doesn’t know the origin of the unexpected funding, but Tooru had his mother’s full complicity in this. Maybe the boss thinks his wife sold some piece of jewelry or other item of value, of which he was too delicate to inquire.

_If only he knew…_

He knows Iwaizumi is still kind of stressed about the casino episode, although there’s been almost a month already and no sign of them being discovered (and how could they, when no doubt Ushiwaka is looking for _two girls_?!)

They also didn’t talk about what happened afterwards, in the parking lot. Maybe it was nothing and his friend is sure acting that way – they were both quite hammered then, with adrenaline and Mattsun’s JB – but Oikawa’s pulse quickens every time the memory of Iwa-chan’s lips and fingers comes back. Maybe he should-

But his thoughts are cut short when the double doors are suddenly slammed open and several men – not overtly armed but clearly so – file into the room, surrounding the table. The two boys remain dead still in the ensuing commotion, their backs stuck to the wainscoted wall, and then _Wakatoshi Ushijima_ walks inside, trailing behind his men, and Tooru stops breathing.

“He knows,” Iwaizumi hisses almost inaudibly, hands clenched at his sides and pressing closer to his schoolmate such that their shoulders touch, and Oikawa presses back, unconsciously seeking the futile comfort of that warmth.

“He doesn’t know.”

Tooru’s arms cross defensively and his chin tilts upwards defiantly, even as he feels the older man’s gaze shifting from his father onto the two of them and realizes he’s banking on bullshit. His stomach churns and fear runs cold down his spine, weighing his body downwards, but he refuses to give in to it and crumble.

“Oikawa-san, I’m here because about three weeks ago your youngest son and his friend over there robbed me,” Ushijima says with deceptive calm, replying to Seijoh’s boss’ furious inquiry.

The taller boy feels Iwaizumi’s shiver against him and wants to tell his friend to keep it the fuck together, but his mouth doesn’t work. Still, he can tell that the boss of Shiratorizawa is focused on him and him only, and for good reason, Hajime doesn’t really count. He may have tossed a shoe in a bodyguard’s face and he’s an accomplice, but it was Tooru who attacked Ushijima, knocked him out and took his money.

And it fucking looks like he planned it too.

“That’s an outrageous accusation!” Oikawa senior yells. “You have the nerve to walk in and-”

He’s politely but firmly interrupted by Ushijima, who motions for one his men to step forward. The man is armed not with a gun but a folder and he flips it open on the table, under Oikawa’s father’s nose. He starts explaining something Tooru can’t really focus on, but it can’t be good. Ushijima is no longer paying attention to it either – he walks up to where the two boys stand, awkwardly huddled together (even if Oikawa is still keeping up an indifferent demeanor) and meets his prey’s gaze dead on.

The boy meets his sharp olive eyes with a dispassionate stare, even if he’s probably white as a sheet and his limbs are stiff, as if made of solid wood.

“Tooru?” his father speaks again, coldly, but at least now he has a reason to look away from Ushijima. “The money your mother gave me… were they stolen from Ushijima-san casino?”

_Fuck._

“No.”

“_Hajime?_” Iwaizumi senior addresses his son in a far less gentle manner, but the shorter boy can’t muster any words, can’t as much as look up, he’s rendered completely useless by horror.

Ushijima’s eyes bore into the youngest Oikawa like honey-coated blades and his hand goes up unexpectedly to cup the side of the boy’s face, thumb shamelessly tracing the bottom lip. “If you had told me that you are a boy, I would have let you go,” he states softly, but it sounds like a death sentence.

_‘I would have forgiven you for leading me on.’ _

_‘I wouldn’t have hurt you.’_

_‘But now I will.’_

And with that it becomes too much – Oikawa’s legs give in brusquely and he collapses towards the ground, his knees making painful contact with the marble floor. His composure and whole body crumple with the motion, forehead nearly coming to touch the tips of the other’s shoes.

“Please forgive me, Ushijima-san! Please forgive me! I never meant to, I panicked and I-…,” he begs – or thinks he does – dread invading his every cell like a poison. He wants to cry, but no tears come, only dry sobs shake him from head to toe, unstoppable.

“Get up.”

“No, please-”

“_Tooru_, get up.” 

Wakatoshi Ushijima is not a lenient man; he’s not kind, he’s not merciful. He’ll have him and Hajime dragged out and shot in the middle of the street, for everyone to see what happens to those who dare to cross Shiratorizawa. He’s done it before and he’ll do it again.

“Oikawa-san, I was prejudiced and I will be compensated for it,” the Shiratorizawa boss says, hand diving to grip the younger’s wrist and haul him to his feet, none too gently. “And I don’t want money, since this is a matter of principle above anything else, as I’m sure you understand.”

A deathly silence has fallen upon the room following the boys’ silent confession, all Seijoh members present glued in their place with mortified expressions and no doubt plagued with thoughts of an imminent war breaking out right then and there. Then Ushijima speaks again.

“I will be taking the boys as compensation. They belong to Shiratorizawa now.”

Tooru doesn’t know what to make of this statement – it could mean _anything_ – but it presently sounds worse than death. How can that even-

“D-Dad…?” he whispers, eyes wide with horror and wordlessly pleading, but he is only met with an icy stare and even that doesn’t last long before his father pointedly looks away. 

But no, it can’t-… Ushijima can’t just _take_ them, it’s just not possible, it’s not-

Except the man’s hand is still gripping his wrist to the point it hurts and he finds himself pulled towards the exit, while Iwaizumi clings to his other arm like to a lifeline. The Shiratorizawa henchmen surround them tightly, such that there’s no hope of escape.

“P-Please, Ushijima-s-san, don’t-…” Oikawa begs, stumbling on his feet and short on breath. “Please, I will pay you back, I swear! I-I will do _anything you want_! I swear I’ll do anything you want, just please don’t-”

“That you will,” the other assures him calmly, without a glance.

* * *

Tooru’s whimpered protests come to a halt as he finds himself ushered into Ushijima’s limo, together with Iwaizumi, both of them suddenly face to face with the creepy red-haired bodyguard from the casino, who offers them a bright, sinister grin. Oikawa balks, trying to move away, but Ushijima’s hand still gripping his wrist effectively keeps him in place.

“Oikawa-kun, I believe you wanted to see what’s it like to be a prostitute,” his captor speaks calmly, with his usual unreadable expression, sending a sliver of ice down the boy’s spine.

“N-No, no, no-“

“You will see,” Ushijima continues, impassible. “In fact, I could drop both of you right now to one of my establishments downtown. I can assure you that they are perfectly clean and the clients are quite decent.”

The redhead sitting across from them cackles manically and Tooru thinks he’s going to be sick. He feels his friend’s fingers digging viciously into his free arm as he’s pulled closer. “If some old fart bends me over I’m gonna rip your head off, Shittykawa!” Iwaizumi hisses under his breath, his words a little stuttered.

“I will not do that though,” the boss states in the same tone. “Your friend – _Iwa-chan_, is it? – was just an accomplice, so his punishment should be lighter. He will be assigned a security position, under Satori-san’s supervision,” he explains, motioning to the creepy redhead. “You however will be my personal, permanent _escort_.”

The rest of the car ride is spent in silence, until Iwaizumi and the bodyguard named Satori are dropped off at the casino. After that, Ushijima orders the driver to take them to his residence and suddenly being left alone with this man makes Tooru’s stomach cringe in dread.

“There aren’t many requirements to your new job, Oikawa-kun,” Ushijima begins, and this time there’s an added sternness to his tone. “You will have to accompany me at meetings and social occasions, and you will behave appropriately. I will have a room arranged for you and the driver will bring your belongings from your parents’ house, and you will have enough time for school, homework and such. But there is only one rule I shall ask you to stick to in particular. If you don’t, it will be bad.”

Tooru’s gaze shifts from the ground to meet the other’s sharp olive eyes, the pause adding to the chill in his body.

“You will be mine and only mine. You can have as many girls as you like, but there will be no other men. Do you understand, _Tooru?_”

The bastard saw Iwaizumi holding his hand, even if it’s nothing, even if it’s never been anything, really.

“Yes, Ushijima-san.”

“Not even Iwa-chan, yes?” _Especially not Iwa-chan_, the older man’s eyes seem to stress out.

Tooru nods in agreement, even as his chest constricts painfully.

* * *

The boy’s bare feet make no sound as he pads across the mat flooring, finally coming before the pristine white futon neatly spread out in the middle of the room.

“Fuck… _Fuck!_” he whispers.

His chest heaves with a deep, forced breath as he sinks to his knees at the edge of the sheets and sits back on his heels, hands still clamped on the fabric of his garment. His mouth presses into a thin line to suppress the trembling of lips, his eyelids fall shut and he keeps struggling to breathe through the impossible tightness in his chest and the painful knot in his stomach. 

If only this was a one-time thing, maybe it would be more bearable, but it’s not - the boy’s dread-filled mind decides to point all the sudden – no, no, no. This will keep happening, _again and again_, until Ushijima-san gets bored of it. If he _ever _gets bored of it.

The bedroom door opens somewhere behind him and Oikawa flinches violently, unable to repress the jolt of his over-tense muscles. Aside from that he doesn’t move, back straight and hands in his lap, gaze trained on the painted wall in front of him, even as his new _…boss? _ walks up to the futon and sits beside him for now.

“Have you done this before?” Ushijima asks evenly, ever calm, as he hands the boy a small glass of whiskey on the rocks.

Tooru shakes his head slowly and reaches absently for the drink, without even looking at it, and takes one large gulp before his trembling hand gets the ice cubes to make too much noise.

“Relax,” the other instructs in the same tone, hand descending briefly onto Oikawa’s shoulder. “I’m not going to hurt you.” There’s a pause, followed by a sigh. “Although I should. You know you would deserve it, Tooru.”

That’s it, he’s going to die of fear, the intake of alcohol doing nothing to dull the sharp spike in his gut. His heart is pounding horribly and he doesn’t think he’ll be able to sit still for long before falling apart completely.

The hand which has left his shoulder returns to tread lightly through the curled ends of his hair, in an appreciative motion that is not a caress but rather something akin to the pleasure-seeking touch of a fine fabric or texture. But that too is short-lived and next both Ushijima’s hands slip under the boy’s arms from behind to undo the sash keeping his _yukata_ together with unforgiving efficiency.

_Please, forgive me, Ushijima-san! Please, have mercy! I’ll pay you back, I swear, just don’t do this! Please forgive me! _Tooru begs inwardly, in utter despair, because his mouth doesn’t move, only swallowing back a loud sob when the garment is peeled away from his shoulders and allowed to drop, leaving his body completely bare.

Teeth dig helplessly into his bottom lip as he hears the other shifting behind him, along with the rustle of discarded clothing, doing something he cannot see. Then Ushijima moves closer, still behind him, and his hands reach for the boy’s hips, causing another flinch. Ignoring it, they slide down onto Tooru’s thighs, prying them open a little more before doing the same with his calves.

Maybe he can think of something else while… no, someone else. _Think of Iwa-chan_. He hasn’t done this with Iwa-chan, they haven’t done anything actually, but Tooru would have liked to. But it’s too late now, Iwa-chan wouldn’t want him after this and he’s off limits anyway as long as-

His train of thought is abruptly broken as a cold, slippery finger prods his entrance and the boy freezes, his whole body instinctively tightening against the intrusion. Now he can’t think of anything else, anything to make it better.

“Relax,” Ushijima says softly, working his finger inwards determinedly, until it’s knuckle deep. The movement stings and feels weirdly uncomfortable, causing Oikawa to wince and his back to hunch forward a bit, head bowed. His hands fist even tighter in his lap as his _boss_ doesn’t waste time in adding another finger in, less gently this time. As he does it, Ushijima doesn’t kiss him, doesn’t caress him, because this is just _fucking_ and as such he’s only preparing him methodically, without the slightest intention of making it feel good or at least a bit less unpleasant.

Not that he’d ever want Ushijima to _make love_ to him, since the man only causes him dread and repulsion, but the thought is still absolutely horrible, it makes Tooru feel like a cheap whore. Though Ushijima is probably incapable of making anyone feel any better than this.

The fingers eventually withdraw, leaving a slight burn in their wake and he’s given a short reprieve while his boss again fumbles with something unseen.

_For fuck’s sake, just get it over with already! _

Oikawa figures this would be better than dragging it slower and longer, but he doesn’t really know which is worse. The room has grown chilly and he can’t fight his shivers anymore, it’s so horrible being exposed like that, if only he was allowed to crawl under the sheets and-

“Get on all fours,” Ushijima instructs flatly, one hand guiding the boy’s hip upwards firmly. Tooru has no choice but to comply, resting his weight on the heels of his hands as he feels his thighs shaking.

His boss goes on to carefully roll a condom onto his limp shaft with clinical precision, then spreads his knees apart a little more. A large, warm hand travels up the planes of the boy’s back, coming to press on the nape of his neck and push his whole torso downwards, until Tooru’s forehead is resting against the sheets and he’s supporting himself on his elbows. It stays there, holding him down firmly while the other grips his hip as Ushijima sinks into him in one go, no longer cautious.

Now it really _hurts_ and Oikawa is forced to bite down on his clenched fist to keep himself from crying out, tears welling up instantly and soaking into the sheets. He’s hardly given any time to adjust, to get used to the feeling before his boss settles into a slow but thorough, torturous rhythm. 

Ushijima says nothing, makes no sounds aside from heavy breathing and an occasional low grunt and Tooru struggles to keep equally quiet, to muffle the spilling whimpers and sobs as his body is rocked back and forth, adding to the strain in his limbs. His spine aches from the pressure of being held down and his senses are so filled with pain that he can think of nothing else.

It seems to take forever until it’s over and the other pulls out, giving a final, stinging tug at his abused insides, his empty condom is removed and he’s finally allowed to collapse on his front on the futon, panting hard and completely drained. His face is a mess, cheeks red and tearstained, and Tooru makes an effort to rub it with his hand in a futile attempt at preserving the last remains of his shredded dignity even as the exhaustion and alcohol finally hit like a ton of bricks.

The last thing he’s aware of before finally passing out is Ushijima pressing a quick kiss into the small of his back and whispering a low ‘you should be ashamed of yourself, Oikawa Tooru’ against the boy’s sweaty skin.

* * *

His troubled sleep ends abruptly as the breaking dawn is casting uncertain shadows in the unfamiliar room, which at first sight seems to be empty. Tooru remains still, staring blankly at the ceiling as feeling returns to his body and with it a pervasive, almost incapacitating soreness. His fingers grip the covers, pulling them closer to his skin as the boy allows himself a soundless sob. Still, he refuses to cry again, resisting the urge to curl up into a tight ball and just lie there like a dead thing.

His eyelids fall shut again as the door opens and someone walks in, and Oikawa keeps pretending, even as the other kneels beside him and he can feel eyes on his body. The feeling lasts a while, enough to sink in and become disturbing, before the sheets are yanked off him brusquely and flung away, out of his reach.

“I know you’re not sleeping,” Ushijima says, completely neutral, gaze still lingering on the bare expanse of pale skin that’s for his eyes only. “There’s a suit ready for you in the other room and breakfast downstairs, I have a meeting at seven thirty and you’re coming with me. After that, my driver will get you to school.”

**THE END**


End file.
